


To Love a Jedi Killer.

by gee_oh_wilkers



Category: Journey to Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Last of The Jedi Series - Jude Watson
Genre: Angst, Angst and Porn, Angst and Romance, BDSM, Ben Solo Needs A Hug, Choking, Erotic, Erotica, F/M, Fingering, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Kylo Ren Angst, Kylo Ren Redemption, Kylo Ren is Not Nice, Lemon, M/M, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Romance, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Smut, The Force, keep those gloves on kylo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:14:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24728044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gee_oh_wilkers/pseuds/gee_oh_wilkers
Summary: It's been years since you've been able to say his name, but once you hear "Jedi Killer" whispered amongst the streets, you can't help yourself from thinking who it might be. Once your friend, now your mortal enemy, you hunt down the truth to discover who he really is. In turn, he plans on discovering what makes your body blaze into desire. Will you be the the infamous Jedi Killer's saving grace, or will you be his favorite play toy?
Relationships: Ben Solo | Kylo Ren/You, Ben Solo/Reader, Ben Solo/You, Kylo Ren/Reader, Kylo Ren/You
Kudos: 7





	1. Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prologue of a smutty journey we are all going to embark on :)

"I know who you are, Ben."

"This is the last time, that is NOT my name! He is dead— he's always been dead!" His voice was so full of rage that it shook your heart against your rib cage. But yet, you couldn't let him go. Not like this.

Your voice was meek, but you were afraid to not speak your mind. "I know that's not true. I see you, the REAL you."

His leathered fingers rubbed against each other, making a fist as he lunged forward a step. Suddenly, the same fist slammed into his chest as he belted your name, "you never saw me! You left me, and you only came back to leave me again! You're useless, you're nothing to me."

The last sentence made his voice break, but it made your heart shatter.

"You're nothing to me." Was it really that simple?

—

Childhood felt like light years ago, and yet, it never felt so close. Moments of your time spent at Master Skywalker's when he began his Jedi training with you and your peers would flood back, filling the crannies of your mind. For whichever reason, you couldn't block them from invading your river of thoughts.

Until recently, you hadn't thought anything of your past. You grew up, you moved on, and chose a new path of life. It's what everyone does, or so you assumed. Your parents from the very day you were born, pushed you into the Jedi walk of life. Everyone has elements of the force in them, but to your parents, they saw unlimited potential. Even more so, they admired the Jedi and their push for peace. Being from Coruscant, and knowing the destruction the Jedi life had faced only determined your parents to continue to support them. The Jedi lead them to believe hope may exist.

Then as suddenly as the Jedi became their hope, you became their prodigy.

When you were born, they knew from the moment you opened your optimistic eyes that you had great potential. They raised you as best as they could, but they could not teach you how to control your force abilities. You love them forever just for having to deal with the minor inconveniences having a force-sensitive child had brought on. Synthesized nutrients were not your favorite thing to consume as a six year old, so instead, you enjoyed scattering the nutrient supplements around your plate using the force. Every time your parents tried to feed you them, you lead their spoon away from your mouth. You were every parent's nightmare.

Someone who could control your abilities though was surely Skywalker; or so your parents thought. He was supposedly more powerful than any Jedi before him, having the most force in him than anyone. He defeated the Sith Lord Darth Vader, who was also his dad— to your parents, they thought that was a double whammy of awesomeness. So they sent you to be trained by Skywalker, but little did you know this would change your life.

But you had enough of daydreaming of the past for one sitting, as it was already getting very late. You began closing your food stall, knowing if you were going to get any customers at this hour, they probably were more interested in you than your foods. Coruscant was a great place to live, but it is also easy to get lost in the crowd. Being just a food stall on the side of the street meant you'd only get a dozen of customers, and perhaps a handful of regulars. It was enough profit to keep a roof under your head, but not enough to get any further.

You began to bag away the leftover food items you had; trying to make sure the portion bread didn't come across any juicy fruits. The last time a drop of condensation touched the portion breads, your bag gushed out nine different loafs of bread like a volcano. Part of you was proud that you got the measurements right on the recipe to a point where just a drop of condensation caused the bread to rise, but the other part of you just lost a significant amount of change for that slip up.

So, now you carry a separate bag for your breads.

You locked up your stall, and began to walk through the Entertainment District. This was where you'd stumble upon all the hungry souls of the planet, who spent every last cent of their name on useless merchandise. These hungry, exhausted people were _your_ people, and they knew it too. Every evening you would drop off what leftovers weren't bought at the stall to every person sitting on the street side.

Across the way in tight alleys you'd hear your name being called in excitement, wondering what they'll be having for dinner today. It was a daily occurrence to deliver leftovers, as it was also a daily occurrence you'd leave a bag of leftovers at your parents small abode. If you never opened up your stall, they would still be eating synthetic nutrients. But you were able to financially support them back to a place where they had a sense of pride.

You were a good girl, _to them,_ you were everything.

You then made your way around a few narrow street ways, until you stumbled upon your own home. It was in the middle of several other homes, being stacked on top of each other like apartments. The entire building itself was a cylinder, meaning you had to climb a large flight of spiral stairs within the middle of the complex just to get to your own place. After being on your feet all day at your stand, climbing 192 steps seemed like the last activity you'd want to do. It goes without saying that your neighbors knew you as "that swearing lady" who cusses their way up the steps. Rounding your way to the front of your door, you flung the knob open with a sigh. Another daily occurrence was to go immediately to your cot, and eat. It wasn't cozy, as you never had time or the funds to decorate the place. But, you did have a cot, a chair, and a full sized kitchenette.

Many people believe that living on the outskirts of Coruscant's Entertainment District would ensure that you must live a lavish lifestyle, but it is quite the opposite for you. There was a stretch of windows that curved around your small home, leaving little to the imagination for outdoor viewers. Furthermore, your restroom was only blocked off by the rest of your room by thin shutters. The entire apartment was very open, especially considering your lack of furniture. It was certainly enough to get the job done, though not much else.

As you plucked out of your bag a fruit that was shaped like corn on the cob, the temples of your head began to squeeze in. It felt like a horrible headache, pounding in over and over, making you dig your nails into your the fruit. Juices gushed under your nail beds, enveloping your fingertips in a sticky substances but you couldn't focus on the mess you were making; this pain was far from anything you experienced before. In a jolt, you threw your head back, feeling your temples crash into your head. "Fuck!," you groaned, trying to take a deep breath. For a split moment you thought this was going to be your last breath, but then the pain stopped. Just... _stopped_. Beads of sweat found their way to your cheeks, claiming their territory once again. "What.. what was that?"

You're no stranger to headaches, being on one of the most busy planets in the universe made you almost immune to headaches; but this was something of a new level. Something that felt so raw, so painful, but yet, familiar. You allowed that word sink into your mind once more, _'familiar?'_. Maybe it was the long day, maybe it was the hustle and bustle of your daily activities, but you couldn't place how that pain was familiar. Your mind was foggy— perhaps this was the reason for the headache in the first place?

Allowing the hurt simmer away in your head, you proceeded to eat the now mushed up fruits. Oddly, the way the fruit mingled into the others tasted, well _good?_ Definitely unexpected to say the least, but you couldn't help to brainstorm new recipes. Maybe a starfruit and shuura tart would mingle well; having the sweet and sour flavors combat each other.

_Combat._

You shook your head, 'why are all these words sticking so much?'. Familiar, combat... _why?_ Its not that you particularly hated to think about your Jedi training, you just hated that you let your parents down. Maybe that's the cause for all this nonsense, perhaps its just parts of your training flushing back. Maybe its just-- him.

"No, no definitely not!", you yelled at yourself, not realizing once again you were squeezing your fruits into a sauce.

You haven't thought about him in a while, it had been years since you were even allowed to say his name. He was obsessive, manipulative, and.. and... and. And he was your friend. When it came to him, it was hard to find the words. You were just a teenager when your parents were determined to tug you out of his life, for rightful reasons. His power was beginning to be compared to "the man that made the Universe lose hope", and some even rumored him to be _even more_ powerful. Certainly his abilities were far beyond yours, but you would never let something like power get in the way of your friendship.

Until your safety became a threat.

Thinking of him pained you so deeply, that you silently dropped your leftovers on the floor and rolled into your camp bed. You didn't bother sliding on your sheets, your body felt paralyzed from your toes and up. Instead, your hands softly cradled your face, and your lashes blinked away aggressive tears wishing to flood your eyes. Everything ached, and you softly caressed your face to sleep.  
  
  


_Ben, please._

Your hand rushed for his, trying to tug him back to you. But no matter how far you reached, it seemed that he kept moving farther away.

_You know I didn't choose this._

Billowing in and out, it didn't even seem like he was walking away. It didn't even seem like he meant to be moving; he just was.

_It wasn't my choice!_

Suddenly, his body shifted into the dark like the mysterious shape he was. He left you in the cold, blackness of the air. You fell to your knees, unsure if you would want to wake up from this because it meant you'd be leaving him too.


	2. Master Skywalker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Recovering from your dream you had last night about him seemed difficult, but you could never imagine what you'd be recovering from next. It was a nightmare that you refused to partake in, but beggars aren't choosers, and you never chose to hear the words "Jedi Killer" and "Luke Skywalker" within the same sentence.

Air filled your lungs, as if a cold brush of a breath had hit them before. Your body jolted up in a response, flinging sweat forward from your cheeks. That dream felt, well it felt real. It felt like you were with him in that room, and you could have helped him. If only you helped him, you thought. If only.

You looked at the time on your wall being projected by a small display within your refrigerator. Having a clock hologram display as one of the features the fridge had was definitely a selling point, how could you turn that down? Regardless, time was on your side this morning, and allowed you an extra hour prior to when you had to leave for your stall.

With a quick catch of your breath you threw your legs beyond the cot's siding, and dropped your toes in some squishy substance. "Hmm, that's odd." Not another thought crossed your mind as you tickled your toes in the liquid mush. Then almost like a tragic epiphany you cried out, "mush.. mush!". You stepped in the leftovers you abandoned last night, but you would much rather forget last night all together. You sighed and slid the sticky slime of fruit off each your feet, proceeding to waddle to your restroom.

Stripping yourself of your dirtied street clothes you wore yesterday, you dipped your toes onto the cold tile of your shower. A pull of the cold metal knob in the shower released a sudden sharp feeling of chilling water. You jumped right out of your skin, letting your back meet the shutters that acted like a wall behind you. Obviously, shutters are never going to be a damn wall and you curse the day the interior designer who built your apartment thought shutters were a good idea. So instead of your back hitting the smooth surface of a wall, your back hit the jagged edge of each shutter.

Dirt began to pull around your toes, sinking into the drain. Within the muck, bits of colorful fruit seeds slipped through. It was a beautiful metaphor to start your day; the disgusting dirt of yesterday looks even more horrible with the fruit you, by foot, made into a fruit salad. You tried to let your optimism ring through your sarcastic thoughts, so perhaps your beautiful metaphor would sound better if it said "the grime of yesterday is unmatched to the colors of today". That could work, and with every atom in your body, you hoped that would be true.

As the dirt left your body, you took a few last breaths of the cold water's mist. You hoped secretly that it would revive your mind of your dream and your sudden thoughts about _him_ , but that would be too good to be true. The chills down your spine left you as you wrapped your body in a soft towel, resembling the faint warmth of another body. Faint, but enough to supply you with enough romance. It was always enough for you.

You dashed your way to your kitchenette, bare in your towel, and began to select what fruits or foods to display today. Typically you like to cook while at your stall —it offered some entertainment to the infamous Entertainment District— but with your lack of counter space on your stand it made it difficult to prepare your elaborate foods. So instead, you did the majority of your preparation at home. This way, you could also add your secret ingredients without any competitors sneaking a peak. Though, it's probably not the most sanitary idea to prepare food in just a towel, so you pulled yourself from the kitchen and to the clothes you have stacked on your floor.

Thin, cream colored panties seemed like a good start, complimented with a pair of white leggings that wrapped their way up your legs. You then slipped on a soft crop top, of a bluemilk color. The sleeves came all the way down to your wrist, forming a triangle on the backs of your hands, tying around your middle finger. Part of your business was your appeal; if you dressed like you were wealthy, you were sure to seem like your foods were of high quality. It's part of your brand, and just one of your secret ingredients.

Stepping to your restroom once more, you positioned your hair into a long braid beginning at the top of your head, falling to your waist. If it weren't for extensions you bought from the market, you'd never be able to pull off all the trendy hairstyles on Coruscant. With each braid, you made a bobble of hair, creating a jaggy design of your luscious locks. Your makeup was simple, just a dash of mascara and a brush of blush. Overpowering makeup made it appear like you were trying too hard to be someone. It's all about appearance.

Snatching all of your preparations, you brought yourself to the dreaded spiral staircase and huffed your way down. It would be lying if you said you weren't cussing the entire walk down the flight of stairs. As you made your way to the streets, there was the constant mumble and ringing of the city that flooded your ears. It was a pleasant noise to hear the world was at peace, or at least functioning like normal. Though, as the morning of the sun shines through the city, it makes it increasingly easier to focus on the grime of the world. Specifically, the words that were so nauseatingly dirty that you hoped you didn't hear correctly. _"Jedi Killer."_

Within less than a second, your heart completely stopped beating. The air in your lungs slipped out, leaving them to collapse in your chest. The two strangers continued to converse, not noticing your soul shattering as every syllable left their tongues. "..-ere's no way." Said the second voice, followed by the first again who said, "its true! They and Luke were on Crait." Your heart dropped, 'L-Luke, and a Jedi... Killer?'. You spent your childhood with Master Skywalker, it would be disrespectful to call him family, but to you, he truly was. But to hear Master's name and the phrase "Jedi Killer" all in one sentence made your stomach nauseated.

"Master Skywalker!" You yelped, gripping your throat as if the very words left cinders on your vocal cords. The two individuals looked at you, disturbed at your intrusion. "Please," your body rushed up to them, barely holding on to your bag of goods, "was anything said about Mast— Luke Skywalker?". They took a step away from you at the same moment, especially considering you nearly spat on them. You were quaking in fear, sweat was rolling down your face faster than ever before which only made you look more distraught and insane.

"Well," one coughed as if they believed it would cut the tension, "you could just listen for yourself." They then presented their holographic box, which displayed some sort of bulbous-eyes alien through a small blue hologram. The alien seemed terrified, the depth of their pupils widened with every word they spoke in their heavy accent. "Murdered by his own blood, Jedi Luke Skywalker has perished at the hand of--" suddenly, your body convulsed as you ran to the nearest trash bin. Your throat clenched up, forcing vomit out of your mouth. The two strangers were certain you were crazy at this point, maybe even viciously ill. 

As your fingertips held the lid of the bin, your body began to shake. "It can't be... could it be--" your throat began to clench up, but your controlled yourself this time, _"Kylo Ren?"_


	3. Dead or Alive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The past is haunting you once again, making you remember the awful dread of leaving him and leaving your childhood. When things get tough, you aren't supposed to leave... but you did.

"Kylo... Ren."

Your throat clenched up again; you never _dared_ to say that name. Whoever owned that name destroyed your childhood, and destroyed the Jedi Temple. You could never bring yourself to figure out who it was, it hurt too much. Kylo Ren was said to destroy not just the Temple, but also the students within the Temple. He destroyed the Temple, and he _destroyed_ the Jedi Order. Just thinking about confronting someone who destroyed the place you called home for years made your stomach turn.

You brought your body up slowly from the bin, too focused on Master Skywalker's death to offer any attention to the embarrassment you brought to yourself. The sleeves of your shirt began absorbing the cold sweat brought to your skin, and you slowly quivered away from the sidewalk. You went to the other side of the street, and grabbed your bag. Everyone stared at you, but you couldn't bother with their stares. What life once was to you was now no longer, and you had no choice but to push through.

As your cold body shakily wandered the streets, without a care of where your feet would take you, your mind thought, 'does he know about this?'. You hated yourself for even thinking his name again today, but you couldn't help to worry about him. Master Skywalker was his uncle, and you _knew_ he was estranged from his parents, so they probably wouldn't even share the news with him. Then again, you had no idea where he was, or what he has been up to since you last spoke to him. Since your parents _made_ you stop talking to him-- but it was for your own safety. He was just so powerful.  
  
  


"You _need_ to stop talking to him, Y/N. He's not safe, he's extremely dangerous," suddenly you were a teenager again, living with your parents after they pulled you out of Jedi training. Your mother was sitting across of you, alongside your dad. They both were just looking out for you, but you couldn't see their point of view, "is this just how you deal with things? You get _rid_ of them once it gets difficult?"

"Y/N, you know it isn't like that," your dad quietly whispered.  
"No, it _is_ like that! You left me in training once my power was too much for you!"

She reached for your hand, and you pulled it from your lap. Even if you tried to remain civil, you hated that they wanted to take away the lifestyle _they_ gave you, and then take away the only friend you really had. Your mother quietly hummed your name, and withdrew her hand, "this Force,--" she cleared her throat, "this Force discussion thing you keep doing with him needs to stop. You are feeding into his energy and..." "And?", you huffed, wanting to scream and cry all at the same time, but your voice kept catching itself before your hateful words slipped. She then continued,

"Your father and I both are worried for your safety; for... for _our_ safety. If you continue talking to him like this, we can no longer keep you in our house."

Your heart dropped, 'what?'. There were no words that could make sense, there were no vowels, syllables, nouns, or _anything_ that would make sense right now. "I... I don't get it? Ben and I--"  
"Don't say his name in this house," your father snapped.

"I don't understand Mom, why--"  
"For the safety of your family and yourself, you need to stop talking to him. If you," she then took a deep breath in, tears welling at her eyes like a dam sure to give way, "if you don't stop talking to him for your family, then you're not part of our family."  
  
  


And, well, that was that. Now years later you can only look back and believe that it was for the best, but even now part of you still wishes for the deep friendship you both shared. The last time you spoke with Be-- _him_ , was later that night. Letting him know what your parents had devised was more painful than the death of a loved one. At least with death, you know they're no longer suffering, but when you lose a person who is still alive, you must walk through life wondering what could have been.

 _That_ was suffering; _that_ was pain.


	4. Ben

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As you left work early, you find yourself at home listening to the rant of your mother. None of her words had meaning until she mentioned him... and contacting him. To her dismay, you consider it anyway.

Bringing yourself back to the present moment, you unknowingly lead yourself back to your stall. People were crowding around every stall, some lingering around your very own. You were clearly late, but that didn't matter. The streets though seemed more quiet. Perhaps it was because you were able to focus more, and streets lost the static sound they always carry, but part of you thought that the streets were mourning.

The Jedi were a dying breed nonetheless, but wouldn't the death of a legend hurt any person with any moral? He wasn't just some guy who defeated his own father, he was a man who recreated the Jedi Order; he brought hope to the otherwise bleak universe. Master Skywalker was the last person you believed in to bring hope through once again, but after the destruction of his Jedi Temple, you were positive even he lost motivation and hope. Part of you wished that you had more time with him, and part of you wished you were able to talk to him one more time. If not to apologize for leaving his training, at least for one final goodbye. But, wishes don't amount to anything-- you knew that all too well.

You began to unlock your stand, which was a subtle way of telling the people who were leaning on it to 'back the fuck off I am about to vomit or cry at any moment'. One by one people starting teetering off their own way, but a few of your regulars stood by. "Y/N, are you alright?", asked one aged woman, her gray hair braided into three large sections forming loops as they sat on the top of her head. She was one of your regulars in fact, and probably the kindest of them all. She would wait every morning to get her hands on fresh croissant rolled loaves, and in turn for her lending her ear to listen to you, you'd always sneak her an extra dessert for later. She knew you more than your own parents knew you.

"Oh, yes well," you silently gathered your thoughts, as you began to display different fruits and pre-made foods on the tiered stand, "I'm doing fine." She then leaned in a bit further, as close as she could so no one else would hear her. She always did this to ensure your privacy would remain private. "I know you're not, you heard about Luke Skywalker, haven't you." It was less of a question and more of a statement, as if she already knew the news had gotten to you. In a response all you had done was blink your eyes away, allowing the tearful liquid to subside in the outer corners of your eyes. She then touched your cheek, "why don't you go home, Y/N." That was another question that sounded more like a command, she was good in that skill.

"I have a job to run, Kellilia. I can't leave— I barely have," you cleared your throat as your eyes began to water, hoping the tears would magically disappear, "I don't have enough money to miss work." She then pulled herself away, and reclaimed her normal posture. "Three croissants, my dear. I'll have a pineapple starfruit puff when you get around to it." You blinked rapidly, trying to translate her sudden posture change but regardless you got right to work. She waited just across of your stall, relaxing at one of the sitting arrangements. Every now and then Kellilia would glance over, watching you hustle to make the treats and take orders every once in a while. 

Then, as you scooped the centers out of pineapple slices, you filled them with clean. "Order for Kellilia!", you yelled, trying to find some positivity in your voice. She slowly crept over from her chair, and watched you bag her desserts. "Thank you, Y/N. How much would that be?" "Just 10 today." The woman then shuffled her wrinkled fingers into her pocket purse, bringing out a large sum of currency— you didn't need to count to be able to see there were more than 100 coins. "Kellilia, I can't take this, you know I can't."  
"Think of it as me repaying you for the treats you slide me. Go home, darling, go home."

The old woman gently touched your hand, and offered a warm smile to you. She then faded into the crowd, disappearing in the city of lights. You slowly scraped the coins off your countertop, and into your lockbox. You slowly finished up the rest of your orders, and closed up your stand. The few regulars who would come in during the later hours of business were going to have to manage for the day; you had to get back home.

On your way back from work, with your bag full of the prepared foods you went back home. Climbing up your stairs to your abode was yet another struggle, leading for a string of swear words to fall off your lips. Today they were less exuberant though, and more heartfelt. Your fingertips grazed the doorknob when you suddenly heard your refrigerator ringing. That's right, your fridge.

You opened the door quickly to find that the projector on the fridge was displaying your mother's name and coordinates. The newer models can display holograms from what you've heard, but you can't even afford an actual bed, so coordinates and a name work just as well. Already you knew just what she was calling about; it couldn't have been about anyone other than Master Skywalker. You dropped your bag on your floor, and answered the call. "Y/N! Oh honey, I'm so sorry to call you so early you must have been sleeping. I just—"  
"Mom, I already know. I was already at work."  
"Oh? You didn't visit us on your way back home, I figured you were still sleeping. I just didn't want anyone else to tell you the news."

Her voice was stiff, as if she had been crying all day. For as long as you could remember, she believed so deeply in Luke and the Jedi Order, but now... now with him gone, things began to fall apart. "I could never know how you might be feeling right now," she whispered out your name as if to comfort you, but at this point it seemed like she was trying to comfort herself, "he was such a good man, he really was. He took such good care of you when you were his student, I just... I can't imagine your pain."

"Mom," you sat on the floor in front of the display, partially wishing you could be there with her, but the other part wishing you could just end this conversation and end every part of this day, "I really am feeling hopeless right now and... I know you don't want me to talk about him, but... I can't help to imagine his pain." Her voice shifted, growing into a hurt tone, almost as if she was ashamed, "why would you— how could you bring him up like this?" You shook your head, now cradling your knees, "how could I not? That was his uncle. We haven't heard from him since he and I last spoke. Who knows where he is or how he's feeling."

She sighed, and her voice fell to a whisper, "please, just forget him already Y/N. It's been years. Almost a decade." "It hasn't been a decade, don't lie." "Yes it has, Y/N. We remember," you could hear her hand catching her disappointed sigh once more. It was easy to imagine her going into her disapproving stance, where her warm hand met her hairline, and smoothed the edges. You knew her disapproving actions just as well as her happy ones. "Please just this once, feel sympathy for him. If he's alive, please just feel sympathy for him."

Her voice quickened, "if he's alive? Don't tell me you plan on contacting him again. Please don't bother looking into his livelihood. He's dangerous, honey. He's just, dangerous." Within the second of hearing 'contact', your eyes widened. 'Contact him? Why would I, why... why would I even.. well,' your thoughts started to run at their own pace, colliding with each other on their tracks. Why would you contact him was a great question— just a decade ago you were banished from talking to him. For all you knew, even if you tried to do a Force connection, it would fall short and he could very well not be alive. He was extremely powerful after all, and it wouldn't be out of his character to do something mischievous and risk his life. 'Even having to think about if he's alive or not hurts, I don't know if I'd want to know which one he is.'

"Mom," you suddenly silenced her rambling of words telling you how horrible of a person he was, "I need to go. I need to rest, I'm sick." Her shift in voice was so quick, that she went back to being a caring parent rather than a hateful one, "oh honey would you like me to bring you any soups?" "Mom my job is cooking, I'm okay. I'm going to rest, I love you."

You then hung up the projector call, and continued to sit on the floor, pondering. The question about 'why you would contact him' was just as strong as 'why wouldn't you contact him'. Neither side of the question were easy to answer, considering you couldn't even decide if you wanted to know if he was alive or not. But, part of you hoped he was alive. And... part of you held onto hope that he would still be your friend after all the years that have passed. But the way you ended things was so abrupt, and the only way you'd be able to reach out to him is through the Force; something you haven't dealt with in years. But even with all these obstacles, you couldn't push away the thought of him not knowing his own uncle died from that murderer. You knew it had to be Kylo Ren who killed Luke, and you also knew that if anyone would be powerful enough to take down Kylo Ren, it had to be Ben.

Ben.

"Is that why... is that why you were in my dreams?" You whispered to yourself, tightly caressing your knees. "Maybe you," you took a deep breath in, "maybe you knew this was going to happen." Millions of theories started to plunder your thoughts, though the only theories that would stick were the ones where he was alive. Maybe it was hope; naive and stupid hope, but you knew you had to figure out if he was still alive. There was hope.

And it was him.


End file.
